


Without Words

by ivyspinners



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Nonverbal Communication, Sharing a Bed, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 21:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11022387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyspinners/pseuds/ivyspinners
Summary: As twilight fades into true night, she steps past him and slides into his empty bed. Her days begin before false dawn, with training drills for new recruits--a task she has taken to with relish. They end earlier too, and she's learned that, if she waits, he joins her soon enough.(It takes a stronger man than Cassian to resist how she blinks, sleepy-eyed, expectant.)





	Without Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rain_sleet_snow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/gifts).



> rain_sleet_snow gave me the prompt, _We talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone.)_

Talking is perhaps the wrong word to describe it.

Talking implies words, speech. They do that too. In the harsh, florescent lights, it's easy to mutter about the people who look at her sideways and see her father instead--Galen or Saw or, strangely, both--and how one new recruit has never even seen a blaster. She looks, then, for validation. The lights leave her on edge, and even when boneless with exhaustion, she blinks awake.

Most nights, she opens the door and closes the light.

As twilight fades into true night, she steps past him and slides into his empty bed. Her days begin before false dawn, with training drills for new recruits--a task she has taken to with relish. They end earlier too, and she's learned that, if she waits, he joins her soon enough. (It takes a stronger man than Cassian to resist how she blinks, sleepy-eyed, expectant.)

It's innocent, no matter what flashes through his mind when she leans too close, however soft the skin of her throat looks. He curls an arm around her for security, and pulls her near for warmth.

Her quiet sigh signals exhaustion; her fingers twining through his means a bad day. If she turns to press her face to his chest, it was truly awful, and she wouldn't mind soothing circles rubbed between her shoulders. She never asks out loud but she doesn't leave when he pulls her close, and that's enough. (If her nails dig briefly into his palm, she's still angry, and she's probably going to turn the light back on and start to talk again.)

And for someone who has spent half his life hammering away his tells, he must have a few left, because she reads them. Some days she pushes until he turns away, then wraps her arms around him, tight like an anchor; some, she holds his head on her breast, fingers combing through his hair.

It feels like a quiet dream, and he doesn't want to shatter that spell. Hates the few occasions so far when she'd stiffened and drawn away, padded to the door, and left his narrow bunk feeling too empty for a place he'd called home for a decade.

Tonight, she's facing him, eyes bright and fixed on his chin. He runs a hand down her back, doing his best to ignore that she wears nothing beneath the sleep shirt.

She takes a deep breath, gaze flicking up to meet his. Determination settles across her face. He stills, watching. Waiting.

"Okay?" he asks, when she doesn't speak.

"Good," she affirms, and tucks her head against his throat. “Thank you.”

Her lips twitch into a smile against his throat; his pulse races wildly, but it’s nothing to the warmth in his chest, hearing the sound of her voice.

fin.


End file.
